


Desert Run

by torianmist



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Marijuana, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:06:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torianmist/pseuds/torianmist
Summary: Small snippet from a big picture that I never got around to painting.





	Desert Run

A canopy of stars, thrown as a fine net of light over deep midnight blue leeched the lingering heat from the sand and dust as the desert passed from day to night. Natasha glanced over as Tony pulled the truck off the road and down into a gully.

Revving the engine, the tendons in his arms flexing as he shifted gears, Tony maneuvered the truck up the other side and over to an overhanging outcrop of rock hidden behind sage and low chaparral. The silence was deafening as he cut the engine and rhythmic guitars and heavy bass bled into a thick velvet void. Overly long locks fell into his eyes as he leaned across her and flipped open the glove box taking out a small, blood red sack. Slamming the compartment shut, he leaned back in his seat, the warm skin of his forearms brushing against her bare knees as he moved. Natasha watched silently as Tony stretched back to the space behind him and pulled out a black hoodie and a thick, soft looking cream colored blanket. Setting his shoulders, seeming to resolve some kind of internal struggle, he cut dark eyes to her and spoke for the first time in hours.

“Coming?” He murmured, voice low and rough with lack of use and desert grit.

Not waiting for her answer, Tony wrapped long fingers around the door handle and stepped out into shadow, shutting the door behind him with the solid thunk of well made American metal. 

She watched him make his way a few yards from the truck, gathering up loose brush and smooth, bone white and brittle shrub branches as he went. Tossing it all down and throwing out the blanket in billowing waves of cashmere, he dropped to his knees at the edge of its spread out softness to start a fire. He didn't seem to care that she was still in the truck; either Natasha would follow or she wouldn't.

Natasha looked unseeing at the night sky, her mind a branched sprawl of thought, each tendril beginning and ending with the man who had just left. This was the first overt overture Tony had made since his anger at her finding him three days prior. She recalled how his face had gone white to the lips with rage. His words cutting and sharp. His hands trembling with the need to strike out. He had then completely shut down; driving, eating and sleeping in silence. Speaking rarely and looking at her even less. The man she was traveling with was not the Tony Stark she lived with.

She ran her fingers over the tail of leather and metal in her pocket, pulling it out and contemplating the meaning behind it; the subtle pliancy of the leather and the inlaid hidden strength of the metal. Trust was an elusive and precious gem to Tony and she was a red diamond presenting as a white one, rare and intriguing but not something he would hold close. Too dark, too complicated, too angled and sharp. Too covered in the blood of those attracted to her inner fire and secret prisms. She bound the gift to her wrist as she considered the enigma that was her team mate. They were a lot alike Tony and she. Mind made up, Natasha slipped out of the truck and followed the potent smell of wood smoke that drifted as a stain across the knife sharp clarity of the arid air, and cut her way silently through the night towards Tony.

 

Tony caught movement from the corner of his eye, registered her as no immediate threat and sat with one leg stretched towards the fire as he open the red bag he had taken from the glove box. Reaching in, he pulled out papers, a grinder, a baggie of premium Sour Diesel pot and a small, palm sized glass pipe. Uncapping the grinder, Tony reached into the baggie, selected two thumb sized nugs and dropped them into the grinder. Recapping it, he looked up at her from under his bangs as he twisted the top to shred the herb into small, fluffy flakes.

Natasha dropped gracefully next to him, body angled toward him, open and trusting, her legs crossed like a child at storytime. The climbing moon reflected off the silver chain in the leather twinned bracelet he had bought her yesterday and Tony felt an unwanted surge of pleasure that she had accepted it. Eyes dropping back to the task in front of him, Tony considered the repercussion of her reporting back that the Avenger's SIC was a pothead. Shrugging internally, he figured SHIELD had far worse dirt on him and besides, as the small voice of hope in the last safe place within his brain reminded him, she had promised. Just him and her, no repercussions and no reports. Dropping the ground herb into the dip of paper held in his slender fingers, Tony folded into the seam and bought it up to his mouth, tongue flicking out to wet the seal then rolling it between his thumb and forefingers and bringing it to a twist in the ends. Perfectly symmetrical. Reaching over slowly, he placed it on the ground in front of Natasha. Peace offering.

**

Natasha watched silently as Tony crafted the joint. Her eyes dropped to his mouth as his tongue flicked out to seal the paper and she wondered curiously at the frisson of heat the movement called up low in her belly. When he set it at her feet she inclined her head slightly. She could say no. Probably should say no. Raising her eyes to Tony's, she met his steady gaze. This wasn't the man she saw manipulating the press and lesser businessmen to protect her and the rest of his team, not the man wrapped in metal she fought next to and trusted with her life, most definitely wasn't the manic whirlwind of a man she shared a home with. This man had no flash, no slick veneer. Here; beneath a purple ceiling bruised with stars, in a room of infinite space and hidden energy, here this man was silent, waiting. A life of secrets buried in him that wrote stories in his eyes. Stories he wasn't ready to tell and yet fragments of them called to her. The deep shadows under his eyes told the beginnings of tales woven through his life that threatened to shatter him. Those shadows narrated to her with all the cadence of a storyteller's thrall just how easily they could lose him. Here he was still and quiet, a cloak of secrecy around him that she found magnetic. A man considering trusting her where he had no reason to. With suddenly unsteady fingers Natasha picked up the joint and raised it to her lips.

The flash of light drew her eyes upward. Tony was holding out what looked to be an antique lighter. Delicate lines writ in silver and marcasite smoothed down by decades of use. The flame burning blue and gold. She leaned forward and wrapped her fingers gently around the fine bones of his wrist, thumb rubbing gently against the back of his hand as he started slightly at her touch. Pulling back, Natasha coughed slightly, her eyes closing against the sting, as the curl of smoke, harsh and strong slid down her throat and tickled her lungs. It had been a while since she had done this, a long while and she welcomed the tingle in her fingers and heat on her lips as an old friend. Letting go the smoke on a long exhale and leaning forward, she held the joint out to Tony surprised when he shook his head and held up his pipe.

“Paper's too harsh for my lungs,” he said softly and shrugged, “pipe's smoother.”

Natasha considered him carefully nodding to acknowledge his point but then reached out and laid a small hand on his. The high was moving through her now, mellow and real. She wanted to share this with him. Peace offering. One for another.

Moving closer into his personal space and watching him square his body but not back down, Natasha held the joint to her mouth and moving slowly, watching Tony carefully for any signs of rejection, laid her other hand lightly on the back of his neck, her fingers brushing softly through his hair. Taking a deep inhale of sweet tasting smoke, she tugged him gently forward until his mouth was inches from her's, held the smoke in as she murmured his name and when his lips tentatively parted, she exhaled into his mouth.


End file.
